Cut and Paste
by MaChaChao
Summary: It's hard to sever family ties. It's even harder to create new ones. ONE SHOT


Every time she thought of that day, she felt dirty.

Nothing that happened to her was of her choosing. Her only mistake had been having a heart. Honestly, how many people were left broken and bleeding every single day because of what they felt in their hearts? Love was a wasted emotion, a fucking waste of time.

Love for her brother had trapped her in that school and lured her straight into Satan's lair. It had dragged her through the destroyed remnants of the garden of Eden and across the thorns of a mad man's legacy. It had carried her to within an inch of her life over a dozen times in a single night. And it had kept her going long after her body begged for her to end the search.

Love for her friends had forced her against every instinct she had within her. Dark hallways and bloodied bathrooms should have made her stay away. But love whispered in her ear that down the hallway was the key that might lead them to safety, and in that bathroom there might be a way to stop the physical bleeding. Ominous warnings through letters and conversations should have told her to abandon them to their fates. But love reminded her that every warning was also a clue, and that clue might be the one that saved them all.

She bore a few marks from that night. A few puncture wounds from the biting creatures and a slash across her right shoulder from a mutant - nothing too terrible, considering how bad it could have been. Two years later, she had a new set of scars. Three parallel lines graced her rib cage. Four bumps lined the base of her skull from where a parasite had grabbed her. And one…one now split her body in half.

Still wet from the shower, she traced the long scar that started at her right hip and made a clear line across her abdomen. A gift from her brother. She had done everything for him, and in the end he'd given up on her and everyone else. It sounded like one of those stupid tee shirt sayings that people brought back from vacation. _I tried to save my brother, and all I got was this stupid scar_. It was pathetic.

The marks weren't nearly as damaging as what happened to her insides. It was like she couldn't tell what was human and what was plantlike anymore. The spores were a part of her very being. They flowed through her veins alongside her blood, swam in the same organs that held life juices and attached themselves to every cell in her body. Sometimes she could see them when she breathed. Those days were the worst.

She sighed. No matter how many showers she took, nothing would wash the mold out of her lungs. It was as much a part of her as Kenny was. The worst part was knowing that she could cut ties with her brother and destroy the remnants of his offspring, but the plant spores they shared would never go away completely.

On impulse, she reached out and wiped a streak of condensation off of the bathroom mirror. The girl that stared back at her seemed to age a year every day. It could have been an effect from the experimentation. Then again, it could just be a reflection of how she felt. The girl in the mirror looked gaunt and pale. It made the bags under her eyes stand out even more against her skin. Her lips were a light shade of pink. Too light, in her opinion. And her eyes…they were like the eyes of an animal who had been stalked for too long. Animals like that were prone to snapping at any moment.

That was why she always covered up her face as well as her emotions. There was no reason to show her enemies that she was afraid, so she lashed back with harsh words and a bitchy attitude. There was no reason to show them that the spores were killing her day by day and that her nights at Leafmore and Fall Creek had damaged her, so she covered herself in makeup and facial piercings. It seemed natural to her.

Even from within her meditation, her plant soaked brain told her that someone was coming. Two seconds later, the front door opened. She listened. There was the sound of keys being dumped in the bowl on the hall table, followed immediately by heavy boots thumping on the tiled floor. The smell of fast food curled under the bathroom door. The TV started mumbling about some sporting event. He was home.

She leaned against the wall, resting her head against the cool mirror. It was so easy to feel like the victim when she was alone. But whenever he was near her, she felt heartless.

Ironic, seeing as how she often wished that she was.

Yet she couldn't help but feel sadness every time she saw his back. His shoulders were hunched over like a beaten puppy and his step was a slow, uneasy shuffle. The experimentations had done a number on him as well. The proof was behind the mirror she was leaning against. Her stomach churned at the mere thought of those pills. It hurt her to think that he would be tainted for the rest of his life because his body hadn't adapted.

But unlike Kenny, he hadn't given up.

"Fuck this," she eventually hissed to herself. She was tired of feeling dirty and scared and alone. And she was tired of always having to put on a façade.

She quickly towel-dried her hair and shimmied into a pair of underwear and a bra. Then she wrapped her robe around her body and let the steamy bathroom air into the hallway.

Unlike his footsteps, hers paddled like a duck. She hated having flat feet. It made shoe shopping a nightmare. _It could be worse_, she thought. _I could have a raging spore infection taking over my entire body. Oh wait…never mind_. God, even her inner dialogue was morbid.

He was hunched over on the couch, watching the TV without actually seeing the program. He had a partially unwrapped cheeseburger in his hands. Grease stains dotted the paper. It smelled wonderful, and yet he made no motion to eat it. Another bag was sitting on the coffee table in front of him. Her portion, no doubt.

At least it wasn't pizza. She hadn't been able to eat it since Fall Creek. Its smell had been the last thing she remembered before he'd crashed his van in an attempt to miss that mutant. Now the smell revolted her. It warmed her infected heart to know that he was still conscientious of that.

She envisioned herself sliding onto the couch next to him, whispering something in his ear to make him sit up straighter and bring a smile to his face. It was the least she could do to repay him for helping her out. After everything that had happened, he was the only one who'd remained by her side.

But she would have been denying who she was. So instead, she leaned over and waved her hand in front of his face. "Earth to Stan! Come in, Stan Jones!"

He jumped a foot in the air, dropping his burger in the process. "Jesus, Shannon! What was that for?" He grabbed his meal off of the floor and glared at it. "I was gonna eat that, you know."

"Yeah, it looked that way to me."

Stan mumbled something that sounded like "bitch" under his breath and tossed the grease fest onto the table. "What? A guy can't watch TV and eat at the same time?"

Shannon glanced up and smirked. "I wasn't aware that you liked bowling tournaments," she said as one of the men threw a strike on the screen.

It was the wrong thing to say to him.

"Shit, I can't even catch a break with you!" he shouted, throwing his hands in the air. He stood up and stomped back to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Shannon suddenly felt a little guilty. He'd brought her dinner and let her stay in his apartment and gave her the space she needed to heal. She repaid him by making fun of him and shutting herself up in her room and staring at the sky, as if waiting for another spore cloud to come down and swallow her up. She didn't know why, after all these years, she continued to make things hard on him. It was easy to plan things out in her mind - being able to contribute to his income and helping with the chores and giving him a chance to heal as well, without relying on medication.

It was also easy, she mused, to act out in her mind what she would do for Stan on a different level. A more…intimate level. She couldn't continue to tell herself that she didn't feel something for that sucker. Without him, she wouldn't have survived the Friedman brothers or her own brother. He had let her into his life and his heart, and she still couldn't bring herself to let him into hers completely.

She just felt too dirty.

Somehow, she had convinced herself that being with Stan would corrupt him even more, that the spores in her body were eventually going to turn him into a monster like her brother.

_No_, she said to herself suddenly. _Stan is not Kenny_. If Stan had been as weak as her brother, he would've succumbed to his infection years ago. Kenny just had to worry about girls drooling all over his stupid ass and getting decent grades in school. Stan had never been blessed with book smarts and had continued to struggle through school. His stint in prison could have easily pushed him over the edge. But he'd survived. And damn it, she was happy he did.

Her hunger had disappeared, but she knew she needed to eat something, even if it was going to preserve her intestines long after the rest of her body decayed. This whole thing would be easier if she learned how to frigging cook. But this would have to do until then. She opened the bag and noticed two things in the bag.

One, the sandwich meant for her was not wrapped in a grease coated snot rag.

Two, Stan had apparently upgraded her to a Happy Meal of sorts, as there was a wrapped box on top of her food.

Gingerly, she pulled the box out and tossed the bag aside. There was no bow or note or anything to suggest what was inside. Curiosity got the better of her and she opened it.

It was an amethyst stone - her favorite - hanging from a delicate, silver chain.

Shannon wondered what possessed Stan to get something like that for her. And what was he planning on saying when she opened it in front of him, as she was sure he'd planned? _"Oh, I found this lying around somewhere and figured you'd like it. Its not like I was gonna wear it or anything." _He wasn't a sentimental guy. Hell, he'd talking about dating her in the middle of the fucking Brotherhood house. He wasn't known for his tact. Or for his positive thoughts on women in general.

She knew she was different to him. But this still wasn't something that she expected from him. Not in a million years. And as she clasped his gift around her neck, she felt something that she hadn't expected from herself in a billion years.

She felt clean.

Something pulled her to her feet and pushed her down the hall to Stan's room. Instinct, maybe. Whatever it was, she silently cursed and thanked it at the same time. His door was still closed, and she couldn't hear anything on the other side. She knocked and waited. Nothing. Still, she knew he was in there. After another unanswered knock, she opened the door and let herself in.

Stan was sitting on the edge of his bed in the only visible pool of moonlight. Scattered around the floor were pictures, some of which Shannon recognized. One in particular caught her attention. Just inside the door was a picture from high school. Ashley had taken it. Kenny had a sullen look on his face, milk dripping from his nose, while Stan was laughing next to him. She smiled at the memory. The joke itself was long forgotten. It didn't matter though. What lingered was the innocence and playfulness that had been sucked into those poisonous spores so many years ago. She had forgotten what it was like to laugh.

"Today's the day," Stan said. It was Shannon's turn to jump; she hadn't realized that he knew she was there. His back was still turned away from her. "Six years ago, we learned the true meaning of fear. Two years after that, we got a refresher course."

She could tell that he'd been crying. His voice had a husky tone to it, and the occasional crack only made it worse. Moved, she sat behind him on the bed. Her instinct kicked in again, and she found herself encircling his shoulders with her arms and resting her head against his. His skin was like ice.

"I…" She could feel him shaking a little. "I haven't stopped thinking about it all day."

"I've never stopped," she said in little more than a whisper. "I don't think I ever could."

He took a shaky breath and turned his head, meeting her eyes. "You're not wearing any makeup. What's the occasion?"

She rolled her eyes, a smirk touching the corner of her mouth. "I'm wearing nothing but a robe and a necklace, and you're asking me about makeup?" At least they could still joke with each other. She was grateful that Stan never stayed angry for long.

"I can't remember the last time I saw you without it," he said. His eyes wandered back to the picture he'd been holding in his hands. It was the five of them from high school, back before the massacre started. Ashley, Josh, Kenny, Stan and herself. Her hair was still blonde in the photo and her face was still innocent. She smiled. "Even then," he said, touching her face in the picture with his thumb, "you were always trying to look different."

"I've never liked being me, even less so after what happened to us."

"But why?"

Shannon faltered. To be honest, she never really knew why. "I dunno."

He wriggled out of her arms and turned his body so they were facing each other. "Shannon, you're the smartest, strongest, most kick ass chick I know. What's not to love?"

"Stan, I'm a cesspool of disease," she said. She surprised herself. It wasn't like she didn't know it, but it wasn't exactly something she'd admitted openly to anyone. "What those spores did to me…to us…I don't even feel like I'm human anymore."

His cold hands enveloped her own. Then, slowly, he raised one of them to her necklace and touched the stone with his index finger. She felt a shiver run through her body. "I know. But I want you to feel like a human."

"How…" she stuttered. Her eyes met his and another shudder rippled through her. "How did you know…"

"Shan, you've closed yourself off from everyone and everything. You don't leave your room without your mask on. I've seen you sitting on the couch or lying in your bed, curled up like you wish you could disappear." He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "God, what I wouldn't give to show you the life you're missing."

"And what life is that?" The picture in her own hands was crumpled now. Oh well. "All I can think about is what's going on inside of me. I can't be like you, Stan. I can't just get up and go about life like nothing happened."

He frowned. "You think I do? Everything reminds me of that day. Hell, I have to take meds twice a fucking day because of our principle! I don't get to escape it any more than you do." He reached over and rescued the picture that Shannon had been clutching. He replaced it with one that was laying to his right. It was from her college graduation day. Stan looked like a mess next to her, his dark hair curling wildly and his shirt wrinkled from being stuffed in a drawer. Still, their smiles matched. They bore the same message: _We did it_. "You managed to graduate in three years at the top of your class. Hell, you probably could've been valedictorian if your brother hadn't put a kink in your freshman year."

"A lot of good my degree's done me."

"My point is that you beat the odds again. Overcoming something like that once is amazing. Twice, its fucking unreal. But you did it. You deserve to be happy like you once were. Yeah, it'll be hard. But there's still a lot out there waiting for you, Shannon."

She wanted to cry. God, did she wish she could turn on her tears like the rest of her gender. She didn't deserve a friend like Stan or any of the happiness he had envisioned for her. She wanted it, but it just seemed so far out of reach.

And yet she touched the necklace again, and she remembered what it was like to feel clean. He had done that for her, regardless of whether or not she deserved it. A dull flush warmed her face. She was suddenly grateful that it was too dark for him to see her clearly.

"What about you?" she asked him. "What's out there waiting for you?"

He started to say something, then hesitated. Shannon found herself reaching out again, cupping his cheek with her hand. She didn't know why. All she knew was that it felt right. "I don't know," he said after a moment. "But I try to keep my hopes up for something good."

"Like what?"

"Would you like to see?" And then his lips were on hers, hungry and wanting. He pulled her closer until she was nearly on top of him. She offered no resistance.

This wasn't like the other times he'd kissed her. Back then, it had been a way to clear her head and offer her comfort. This time, it was as much about his needs as her own. And as she kissed him back with the same intensity, she realized that this one was a long time coming.

Her hands traveled up his chest and through his hair, as if he was her lifeline. She could feel his own hands grasping at her hips, drawing her closer as if she might disappear otherwise. It was suddenly too hot. But it was a good heat. It spread through her body rapidly, fueling the desire she had neglected for too many years. He broke apart, panting and breathing on her neck, her name on his lips as she raked her fingernails down his back.

"You know," she hissed in his ear, "you could've gotten me a flower like most other guys."

He kissed her neck just below the ear, replacing her words with an involuntary moan. "I'm not like other guys," he whispered back. His hands were now tracing the curve of her spine.

"I know, but…"

"And remind you that a flower caused your infection? Not on your life, babe." His lips found hers again and she was lost.

A few tears escaped her eyes as she held him close, letting her hands roam and her mouth drink him in. It was not the release she had been expecting. In her head, she had thought she would scream and cry and destroy whatever was around her in an attempt to let go of the pain. In the process, she would drive away everyone she knew and loved. To her, that one brief outburst would heal old wounds and create new ones. But she had already accepted that her life would be one of loss.

She had not, in her wildest dreams, expect to find it while wrapped in Stan's arms, letting him take over her completely. She tried telling herself that she didn't deserve this. Stan, the boy who couldn't get an A to save his life and delivered pizzas for a living, was too good for the likes of her.

Her robe slipped from her shoulders as she tore at his shirt. It was at that point that she decided she didn't care.

Shannon had been blind for so long. Now that she could see again, she found that it hurt her eyes. But hell, it was better than the hurts all of those monsters had given her. It didn't matter what she wanted or what she thought she deserved.

Stan wanted her as much as she wanted him. That, right there, was enough.

Her eyes wandered to his chest as she finally wrenched his shirt off of him. He bore his own set of scars from their encounters. Two long, angry marks tore across his torso from his left shoulder to his right hip. There was also a thick scar that formed a band around his right bicep. She ran her fingers across the swipe marks on his chest. Goosebumps formed on his skin when she touched him.

"Stan," she said, unsure of what else to say. She had a sudden urge to gather him in her arms again and heal every one of his thousand hurts.

Before she could move any closer, he grabbed her hand and turned it over. Her left palm was rough and calloused from drawing in so much of the black auras at Fall Creek. She blushed again as he kissed the deformed skin.

"Are…are you sure this is what you want?" she asked him, suddenly feeling like a preteen who was all nervous over her first crush.

"You saved me, Shannon. Even when my life was at its darkest and I thought I would never see light again, you were there. You make me feel more alive than I did before the experiments. You're all I ever wanted."

She felt her insides melting, as if his words could physically cleanse her body of the infection. The feeling was wonderful. "Stan, I think…" She stopped, unsure of how to word what she needed to say.

His hands slid the robe away from her body completely, pausing to caress the scars on her shoulder and her ribs. "What, Shannon?"

"I think…I'm starting to feel human again."

She watched as the playful smile she'd known so well in high school finally reappeared. Considering how much his chest was heaving from their 'activity,' she wondered how he managed to keep his face so calm. "Falling for the good 'ole Stan charm?"

She thumped him on the shoulder, pushing him until he was flat on his back. His eyes grew wide as she hoisted herself over him. A smile of her own graced her face. "You fell for me first, asshole." She kissed him again, filling it with her promises and hopes and dreams. His arms wrapped around her body and drew her close, so close that she could feel his heartbeat against her chest.

Another infected heart, beating to the tune of a normal one.

He laughed against her lips. "Man, am I glad I did that." Then, without warning, he flipped her over and firmly planted himself above her. "And equally glad that I did that." He kissed away the protest that was forming on her mouth, replacing it with his own dreams and desires. Shannon didn't want to stop until she had fulfilled every single one of them.

Ever since the events of Leafmore and Fall Creek, she had felt like a creature herself. She'd wanted nothing more than to sever all ties with her 'family,' the one that had turned her brother against her and continued to infect her mind and body. She had felt disgusted that those spores had ultimately forced her to kill Kenny and his spawn and spend the rest of her life trying to destroying that damned botany disaster.

Stan had taken her hand and shown her a lighter, happier path. After all, he shared the same infection, and it hadn't stopped him from living. She found new thoughts entering her head as she lay entwined with him. Despite everything, she was still human. The spores could spread but they would never overtake her completely. A part of her would always exist to remind her of her strength and to clear away the blackened debris. And the one person who had stayed by her side would remain there, always ready to pick her back up when she fell. She found that she wanted to do the same for him.

The night of the six year anniversary of Leafmore became the night that Shannon Matthews finally severed all family ties. Stan was her family now. God and plant spores be damned if they tried to sever this new, unbreakable bond.

Maybe love wasn't such a wasted emotion after all.

* * *

A/N: Hmm, seems I can't play a video game anymore without writing a story to go with it. I'm not exactly sure where this oneshot came from, other than that I finished playing the second ObsCure and suddenly had to sit down and write this.

Yes, I know Amy was in the helicopter when it blew up, but what's to say that Kenny's spawn didn't survive? I'd like to think that Shannon would've investigated and destroyed whatever was left, considering how the game ended. But what do I know? I'm just a survival horror junkie with an addiction to writing. A bad combination, indeed.

Anywho, I hope you enjoyed the story. Feel free to leave me a comment or review to let me know how you liked it. Unless, of course, you are a Stan/Shannon hater. I honestly could care less if you hated them as a couple and you think I'm corrupting good fan fiction with romantic bullshit. If you don't like them, don't read stories about them. That and I will only verbally abuse you back.

Thanks again for reading!


End file.
